“And there is nothing wrong with me! I have autism, and that means I’m different. In a good way! Mm!” Alicia stormed out, and never looked back.
Even now, a part of her still hoped. It hoped that Serena would fall to her knees and say, ‘I’m sorry.’ Then, with the power of a hug, they would move on. They would talk, and Serena would learn what autism was, why she had it, and paid for her diagnosis.
It would open her third eye, and she would see her daughter in a brand new light. Her daughter wasn’t a failure, she was just different. With this epiphany, she would change. Slowly, but surely, Serena would stop asking her to look people in the eye, stop stopping her from flapping her hands, and cooked tacos with her.
Everything would go back to normal. Back to when it was just them.
Slowly, but surely, this part of her shrank.
As promised, Zack was at the void deck, waiting for her. He was napping against his backpack, which looked like a sleeping bag for giants.
She nudged him, wiping her tears away as he came to. He slung his backpack on and stood up with his eyes closed, as if his body awoke a second faster than his mind.
He only spoke when his eyes opened. “What are the directions to Motel 91?”
Alicia borrowed his phone and keyed their destination into the GPS. Two hours away, with both bus and train transfers along the way. He committed the route to memory, and they set off.
Alicia tried texting Tony on the train, and his response confirmed her worst fears, or rather, his lack of it. Tony had blocked her and deleted his account, as if he never existed to begin with.
Ironically, this was the biggest similarity he shared with Dad.
She only thought of Dr Wang now. He, like all adults, would take Serena’s side. They’d pat each other’s backs for trying their best, and complain about their insolent children like they did about a shelf they struggled to assemble.
They’ve followed every step on the manual. Provide them food, water and shelter. Teach them to strive for perfect grades and avoid the screens. Scold them for misbehaving, then scold them harder if they continued misbehaving; rinse and repeat. So why aren’t their children walking, talking and acting exactly the way they wanted them to?
Are they lousy at assembling shelves, or did they buy a lousy shelf?
Her classmates wouldn’t fare better. Sure, they wouldn’t blame her, but they wouldn’t offer support either. They’d pat each other’s backs for hanging in there, shrug their shoulders and say, “That’s life.” Like a prisoner did about their abusive warden.
What could they do about it? Stage a riot, or plan a break-out? Please, this isn’t an action movie. This is Singapore. Children get caned if they don’t listen. Prisoners get beaten if they looked at the warden funny.
That’s life.
When she ran from Motel 91, she ended up having a meltdown and flailing like a dead fish, breathing their gasps of air. Now, as ran to Motel 91, she did the exact opposite.
She did nothing.
Said nothing, moved nothing, responded to nothing. A non-living thing that had two legs and a audio sensor. The legs moved it forward, whilst the audio sensor received commands from Zack. Turn left, watch out for the ledge, cross the street, wait for bus 89…
Just like Zack’s initial robotic state.
“How are you doing?” Zack asked.
The non-living thing did not have a speaker unit.
“It’s okay. It’ll be rough for the first few weeks, but after we figure things out… We’ll be okay. It will all be over. We won’t have to even think about it anymore. We can move on.”
Zack was so naive.
“We’ll work there for a few years, save up a bunch of money, and buy a house, or rent it if buying is too expensive. And then we’ll live together happily. You know?”
She didn’t.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to do this alone…” His voice shook. “Thank you Alicia. So, so much. And I’ll make sure that you never have to do any of this alone, too. Okay?”
She nodded. Okay.
They boarded the bus. What lengths would Serena go to track her down? How far will this news spread? How fast? Will the police be involved? The police… She had to hide from the police, like some kind of fugitive. In the movies and shows she’d watched, these fugitives forged new passports, flew to a new country, and lived under a new name. That was impossible without her passport.
In the more violent movies she didn’t dare to watch but couldn’t bear to look away from, the fugitives snuck past the border through various means. In a truck, on a boat, in a shipping container… Oh god, was that her fate?
These thoughts came at her like a bucket of iced water. But unlike a bucket of iced water, the chill wouldn’t leave her, nor will the water dry. Only she will numb as she adapted to this.
That’s life.
They alighted from the bus, and she found herself back at that carpark. An afterimage of herself back then spawned from her memory, and ran past her. Zack confronted the lone staff by the concierge while Alicia rested in the lounge.
He came back with Dania, who looked identical to her former self. Same hijab, same uniform, same make-up. Zack handled everything like a pro, as if he’d practice for this: briefing the staff on their plight, striking a deal with the manager to earn their stay, and promising they’d get out of their hair in six months’ time.
He needed Dania to go the extra mile, assigning herself to take care of them, to convince the manager.
Dania led them past the corridors, which Alicia expected to be filled with junkies but wasn’t, to their rooms. According to Dania, they crowded around the motel, and never inside it. The manager made sure of that.
They set their luggage bags on the bed and followed Dania back to the concierge to join her clones for supper. Their stomachs rumbled at this, accepting the offer before their mouths could decline.
The group went to their usual spot and ordered a table full of Prata and iced milo. Alicia and Zack ate as if it was their first ever meal in millenium.
As they ate, the staff bombarded them with questions: Sayang, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did your parents beat you? Do you need plasters? Do you want to eat more? You two should eat more; you’re both so skinny! Are you two dating…
Zack did all the answering.
After supper (dinner, in their case), they returned to their room at the corner of the top floor. It could not fit two people. Zack flicked the light on, painting the room golden-yellow. It revealed the two beds, separated by nothing but a little nightstand, which sported mattresses that felt rock solid compared to hers at home.
The ceiling fan wobbled so much she didn’t dare to set it at its maximum speed. It did nothing to help resuscitate the air in the room. Tucked in the corner was a table big enough for a single textbook. On it, a pamphlet introduced the guest to the motel and its limited amenities, most notably amongst them the single bar of Wi-Fi.
Alicia took her shoes off and headed into the toilet. She came out screaming, wiping off the vile, wet thing on her feet and wishing to chop it off. Recognising what it was only made it worse; a cockroach. It laid on the floor, flailing its legs as madly as Alicia did as she bumped into the TV and tripped onto the bed. Zack killed with a slipper, grabbed it with a tissue, and flushed it down the toilet.
No, no, no, no, no! She was not living here. This disgusting, cramped, suffocating prison cell! She had another meltdown.
“Woah, woah, calm down!” Zack rushed to her aid, though was unsure of what to do. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We can clean it.”
She continued screaming, unable to get the cockroach out of her mind. Worse yet, her morbid imagination poured salt to the wound, and forced her to picture the vile thing crawling all over her. She wanted to chop her foot off.
It made her cry again, because what else could she do? Zack hovered his hand over her shoulder, as if stopped by a force-field from patting it.
“Can I—Um…”
She nodded, disabling the force-field. His hand made contact, which she took as permission to reciprocate by lying on his shoulder.
“I want to go home!” She cried out.
“You’ll get used to it after a few weeks.”
Was that supposed to be a good thing?
“I’ll go clean the toilet tomorrow and kill any more cockroaches I find.”
She slapped the mattress as if it was responsible. This was antithetical to how the world worked. Mattresses were supposed to be comfortable, toilets were supposed to have dry floors, overhead lights were supposed to be white. She felt allergic to everything.
“And um… Alicia. I know tonight has been stressful but… I just—Can I say something?”
She nodded.
He beat around the bush, tripped over his words, doing anything in his power to delay the actual news. This informed Alicia of the news ahead of time. “I like you… too.”
She never thought she was the kind of girl to receive confessions, hence, she never prepared for them. But she had no mood to triple-check her words to ensure she pulled this off right.
“Okay. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“I—Uh—Huh? Really?”
“Yes.” She yawned, paying attention to her sleep at last.
“Can I—Can I hold your hand?”
“Okay.”
“Woah, really?”
“Yes.”
He approached her hand as if it was radioactive, taking forever to make contact. But once he did, a jolt of electricity seized him up, and gave him an uncontrollable need to shower.
“I’m gonna go take a shower. Ok, bye.” He said in one breath, and disappeared into the dirty bathroom. Alicia laid down, and reluctantly slept on the mattress she was allergic to. Covered in sweat, bruises, and dirt.
That’s life.